


I Should Had Really Let Him Marry Gwen

by silkmoth



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkmoth/pseuds/silkmoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin’s musings on his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Should Had Really Let Him Marry Gwen

**I Should Had Really Let Him Marry Gwen**

I’ve known, okay? I mean, I’ve _really_ known. First impressions and all that. Right after I’ve met him, he has thrown me in the dungeons. And then, out of the dungeons, into the stocks. Next he’s beaten me with a broom. Things have gone downhill from there, and they still are going.

Yes, yes. Stop complaining, you have a wonderful life. You try to live with this man, I dare you. I give you an example. Not only is he a freaking morning person, one of those you would want to kill _every_ morning, but, he wants you to be one of those, too. You know what that means? It means at dawn, you’re sitting through endless meetings with mostly still asleep knights on uncomfortable chairs at that weird round table, trying to keep your eyes open while beside you, the chipper King is chattering like a squirrel. Instead of, say, still lying in bed with said King, being warm and getting close and personal with each other, like any sane person would.

So, as I said, I’ve known. I’ve known he’s a prat and an ass, a good looking ass, I give you that, but I tell you, good looking soon stops being important. You may ask why I am still here then, sitting next to him all the time and not having left years ago? I’ll tell you. Because:

A) I. Am. Stupid.

B) I listened to a certain Dragon (which proves point A).

C) He’s good in bed (the King, not the Dragon).

D) Somehow (and please don’t ask me why or when or how) I’ve fallen in love with him.

  
This thing about falling in love with him… I’m very sure that had happened after someone hit me over the head with a stone. Or maybe Morgana had hexed me, I wouldn’t put it past her. That would have been the perfect revenge for me poisoning her.

After I realized I’m in love with him, I should have drowned myself. But… remember point A? So I didn’t. What I did was angst, over _everything_. Over Uther finding out, for example. Yes, I was more scared about Uther finding out how I feel about his son, than I was about Uther finding out I am a warlock. I still wonder what would have happened if he had gotten an inkling about either thing. Sometimes, I go down to his grave and tell him stuff like that – I like the idea of him spinning under this ridiculous tombstone. _Beloved Father_ , my ass.

Anyway, I was angsting. Do you know over what or better whom I angsted most? Over Gwen. Not that either Gwen or the ass noticed anything, I’m obviously very good at hiding my angst. After that ‘Kiss of True Love’ happened (I still can barely write it down without wanting to bang my head against the nearest wall, remember point B?), I _really_ almost drowned myself. Again, no one noticed a thing, only Gaius asked me if I had trouble with my bowel movements. Talk about embarrassing. Lovesick = Constipated.

All that angsting led to nothing, though. And then even Lancelot ran away (for awhile, at least) and took my last hope with him. So what could I do? I didn’t want to use magic because… let’s face it, who wants to be loved by someone one hexed into it? So I did some really hard thinking. And I watched them. And I found out, that he only loved the thought of someone loving him, while Gwen had this ridiculous image of him in her head. The Brave, Kind, Just and _Good-Natured_ Crown Prince aka Future King. Yes, I know, but hell, I can’t blame Gwen. You should have seen him then… if he had puffed up his chest a little bit more whenever he saw her, he would have fallen onto his face.

So I did some more thinking and started the evil plan that brought me here. I introduced Gwen to the real Prince. It was disgustingly easy, me being his manservant at that time.

I threw some hints at Gwen about where and when the prince could be found and how much the prince wanted to see her… and then I brought the ass to that place and riled him up until he was red in the face and almost exploding. Gwen appeared, I disappeared and well… I knew him. He was never one to calm down quickly, and I let Gwen handle him.

Or I led her to the ice-cold lake he sometimes liked to bathe in, to make sure she had a good (if incorrect) impression of some parts of his anatomy.

And I started adding healthy portions of garlic to his meal (seriously, I spent almost my whole salary on garlic… the marketers still think I’m insane, even after all these years).

What can I say? It worked. Not quite in the way I had imagined; Gwen didn’t run away screeching when she saw him. No, but she began to criticize him as only a woman can. She had that tone in her voice… a tone like she would pluck out his pubic hairs; no doubt reminding him of Morgana. The ass felt immediately unloved and now guess to whom he ran and vented? Oh yes. To his _very understanding_ Manservant, who was **so** very understanding that after a few times, the Crown Prince lost all interest in the Maid. The fact that the Manservant was also very willing to put out while the Maid most certainly wasn’t (even less after all that garlic) may have had something to do with that, I won’t deny it.

And today, said Maid is married to the First Knight, they have two kids running through the castle and I think they are very happy. Gwen and the kids are, at least. Lancelot… well, she still has _that_ tone in her voice sometimes. Every time we hear it, I feel the King shrinking back in my direction.

I never told her what I did, because I like my body hairs exactly where they are. I did tell the King, of course… but I told him at a strategically perfect moment (it’s hard to rant or yell when you’re out of breath) and the only revenge he took was eating garlic during the next dinner and then making me kiss him until I was ready to puke.

So, we’ve been together for over eight years now and everyone here in Camelot is used to us; even Geoffrey stopped twitching when he sees us (although I bet he would start twitching again if he heard the King’s mutterings about wanting an heir… and not with a woman, but that is a whole other story, thank you very much). The King is still a prat and will be one until the end of time. I still like to hex his bath water cold and make fun of him jumping out. He is still ranting for hours; I am still rolling my eyes about three times _every_ hour.

You may ask why I wrote in my title that I should had let him marry Gwen. Well, I started to write this little essay in the morning, and I’m not a morning person. But in hindsight, I’ve done everything right. I’ve gotten the love of my life, the one person I ever wanted. And he is for some reason still madly in love with me… even if I’m not very kind to him – in the morning.

Ah, Arthur.

  
The End.  



End file.
